GORE
by Maverick87
Summary: This can't be normal. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: Ownership is not in my eye. **

**Gritty, Ordinary, Raging, Excitement**

I breathe into these kinds of stories. Like a cool air that brings forth coughing spits. Like a punch to the jaw that explodes pain, but you know it feels fucking good. It always does.

* * *

I met him at a library. Wavy air, a beautiful body, orange fur to compliment cobalt eyes. A foxed angel who wants to whisper to me right?

He was reading the newspaper. Guidelive, section E. Movie reviews, upcoming album releases, places to hit up the town. Sunset flushed out the darkness. He merely stayed there, sat there reading his paper. The boy, uh, man looked a little oblivious to the world. A banker lamp lighted his silhouette, and precious words.

So hot and beautiful.

What I did, was talk.

Hearts mend from weaker organisms.

And I was looking for love.

Actually, you could have called this lust, hot, sinful lust. Well, at first, anyway.

* * *

"Hello."

He doesn't even look up. Like my existence is futile, or opiate. He's pretty close to right. But I have to get closer to him, he's so mysteriously appetizing.

"What?"

"The library's closing soon. You want to go grab something to eat?"

"I'd love to. But you're paying."

He says that like an order, not a suggestion. Tough words for someone smaller than me, however, I still want to go out tonight.

"Fine by me."

"Good."

Seconds go by, I just drum my fingertips on the mahogany desk. Waiting for more than sitting, for a hell of a lot more.

"You just gonna sit there?"

The vulpine almost scoffs at me.

"Let me read these last words. I want to remember them."

"Why?"

"If I get hit by a car I want to recall something meaningless. It keeps the pain and darkness away."

Psh. This guy needs some help. Philosophical or insane? Should I back out of our arrangements?

I take a step back. My shoes strike the floor, loudly. For the first time, he hunts my eyes down. Three blinks, then a loud sigh.

"What do you mean…?"

"You shouldn't be afraid of dreamers."

"Hm?"

"Dreamers are the keys to ideas. Art, music, sex, passion, even reality is connected to those of the brilliant mindset."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"I'm calling you a realist. Which, to me, means you're not trying hard enough to do things."

"Bullshit."

"You're just sore. And my name is Miles by the way. I know you want to know that much."

He crumples the paper and tosses it into a nearby wastebasket. Reaching into the desk drawer, he dons glasses with smooth, black frames, and spotless lenses. The light makes the glasses fade to black; those are those lenses that reflect incoming UV rays. He looks cooler than cool right now. Nonchalant is an understatement.

"Ready to go I assume?"

"Dim Sum Secrets. A Chinese restaurant off of Gordang Street. You're going to want to order the Kung Pao, and I'll get some Egg Foo Young. We're going to talk for a long time. About past loves, past lives, and the future. I'll tell you everything you'd ever want to know about myself. You will repeat the process against me. Then we're going to head back to my apartment. We'll have some drinks, I'll have too much and we'll laugh and laugh. Then, we're going to have hot sex and you're going to do whatever I ask for. You'll love it. You'll love it and you won't tell a soul. Do you understand me? Because I want to this to be…fun."

I swallow hard. Just who is this guy? Why is he ordering me around?

"What if I don't want to do that…exactly?"

"You don't really have a fucking choice."

His hand reaches inside the desk again, something scrapes the wood. Something clicks. He holds a shadow out in front of him. The shape of a gun. Quickly he conceals it back.

Damn me and my big mouth.

I just had to get near him didn't I?

That's just life ain't it?

* * *

These plates look disgusting, and I swear I saw a roach crawl by earlier too. Screw this. Maybe I should just run?

"Your Kung Pao…"

Noodles and chicken fall before me. The waiter has the decency to use a ladle to plop the food. I throw up in my mouth for a second.

"And your Egg Foo Young…."

The waiter uses the same bowl he's currently holding to give Miles' his order. The same bowl? This has to be the worst place in town, hell, in Station Square. As if the shitty yellow wall paper, the rancid smells coming from the kitchen, us being the only ones in here, the hoboes outside looking through the window isn't enough. Believe me when I tell you, it totally is.

I keep stirring the same noodles around in a circle. He's wolfing his food down, he's almost done too. It makes me wonder how much longer this is going to go on.

"You're not eating."

"Your point?"

"You have to make this night work."

"Is that a threat?"

"Of course it is. Now eat."

Eat food that looks horrible? Sounds like a great plan! This is pissing me off!

"Miles…come on!"

He grits his teeth, showing bright, pearly fangs. He's getting sexier by the minute. But the same can be said about his hostility.

"What?!"

"I wouldn't let a dog eat this!"

"I'm a fucking dog!"

"My point exactly!"

He slams his fist hard on the table. The white-laced tablecloth falls to the hardwood floor.

"I've spent most of my life trying to reverse such…stereotypical behavior. Or maybe you're just one of those freaks who think they're better than everyone else? You just can't accept change like this can you!? Dogs _like me_ eating in fine establishments _like this_!"

"This place is far from fine."

"How about I count to five? And by that time, you better be enjoying this meal! Otherwise, you're going to be face down in this food!"

His calmness from before is completely gone. I don't get this at all. Reluctant is a good word for me right now. The fork goes into my mouth. Slimy, spicy, greasy noodles slurp their way into my body. I want to gag, but for his sake, I keep a straight face and digest.

Try to gulp down needles of shit and you might feel how I do.

"That was disgusting, you know that? I feel like my stomach is going to implode."

"Pain is the only telescope to understanding someone else. Only through sorrow can you find out the truer intentions of someone."

More philosophy? But he's calm again. I just need to keep making him ramble. Then maybe I can slip out of her; get away from this unexpected venture.

"Tell me about your pain then."

"It's a stupid story."

"I'm not going anywhere soon. You might as well tell it."

Miles clears his throat.

"I was born with a curse. Two tails instead of one. People like freaks. They like to laugh and hurt them. Tell them that they're complete shit. That anything they can do is nothing but crap. Why? Because a normal person can do it that much better. The majority made me become angry, infuriated. I've broken a lot of bones over the years because of them. Been depressed to only cry waves of tears, and try suicide and fail. What do you do when you're the scapegoat of everything?! Buildings could crash to the ground, genocides could wipe out entire races of Mobians, and it'd be my fault! I've always taken the fall for things that didn't even concern or matter to me! But you!? You wouldn't know how that is though. Childhood was beautiful to you right?"

He talks fast, quickly. Like the fox is in some kind of a hurry, what was that stuff he said earlier?

"It sort of was, but we all have our bad days."

Another slam of his fist on the table, his plate falls and shatters to the floor. Where the hell is that waiter?

"Our 'days'?! Put them together and create a decade! Then tell me if you like your life so much!"

Hard, warm breath blows into my eyes, he's closer than ever to my face.

"I don't what to say…"

"Of course you don't!"

Now we're silent. He just keeps staring at me. Every blink brings more rage, more contempt.

"Tell me your wonderful story then! Maybe we could relate to each other!"

Oh god. Where to begin? Should I make something up? Could he tell if I was lying to him? I'll just list them off.

"I was born from a small island. I've never met my parents. Luck has been my only real friend as of late. I used to be addicted to painkillers. Now it's the same with alcohol…I did always want to be a cop…"

The fox snorts with laughter. A high-pitched, senile giggle that only contributes to his apparent insanity.

"You want to be a cop?! Why would you even think of protecting people?"

Talk about hating the world. What the hell did the world do to him?

"It's called being a hero."

"Heroism is defined from fantasy and fanatics. Nothing else."

"You shouldn't be so afraid of realists."

He begins to say something, but my comment seemed to derail his train of thought.

"Touché."

For awhile we say nothing. Again with the silence, maddening and tasty and toxic, a fly lands on my plate, and more stenches rise from the back. I can hear the cook yelling orders. To who though? There's no one else here.

"Can we just go?"

"I don't like being this way. You know that?"

Here we fucking go. I can see his lip quivering. What's next? Crying? Sobs and tears and breakdowns? What a fucking guy.

"More than you think."

"I _love_ being this way. It's like breaking the law, killing someone, having sex with strangers…I am living my life the way I want it and it feels _amazing_."

"I approached you remember? I asked _you _out, out of nowhere."

"I would have followed you home. I liked what I saw. I still do. You've been in my eyes for a long time. Longer than you'd ever fucking imagine."

This is great. He's a stalker?! Talk about a beautiful night, or an enchanted lover. He's neither. He's crazy. Remind me to never date anyone ever again.

"That's…discomforting."

"Tell me more about yourself. Where's the substance in you, doll?"

Doll? I'm ready to knock him out. There's some substance for you.

"I've told you everything I want to tell."

He sighs like before. His glasses shimmer darkly. His eyes fade into darkness.

"Let's go then. My place is well suited for…communication."

Time to get away from this freak.

* * *

He's folding his napkin, not even looking at me. I shudder a little bit. Situations like this are hard to analyze. The table is small enough, I can reach right across. I do. My fist collides with his head. He yells something, but I've already swung the glass doors wide open. My shoes bang against the pavement. A left turn, an alleyway with clothes hangings on lines, I stop. Scan the area, shiver. Where the hell do I go? Footsteps are coming behind me. My back falls against a rusted, green dumpster. Exhale, exhale, exhale, the noise has stopped.

Where is he? I just to need to barely peek around the corner and…

Click.

The barrel rests right on top of my head. I can smell the gunpowder. He was above. Damn the little bastard. I forgot he could fly…His glasses are completely clear now, those blue eyes look serene again. Miles has a bloody smile; I may have knocked out one of his teeth, or cut his lip. It's hard to tell. He now flips over me, we're back to standing and staring, again.

"You're beautiful when you're scared."

"You're….fucking ugly."

The fox just spits, he spits red to the asphalt. His fangs match, and so does the white fur around his mouth. The gun is still aimed right between my eyes. I keep thinking this is where he's going to kill me; some shitty back alley where no one will find me, or even wonder why, or even care.

With one arm, my back slams against the dumpster once more. He pins me.

"Hold on to fear. It keeps you awake."

"_What the fuck are you_?"

A splendid question, but I already knew the answer; a crazy freak.

"Just your everyday dreamer."

More like "everyday psycho". How am I going to get out of he--r--e--w--h--a--t--t--h--e--f--u--c--k?

He's kissing me; his tongue is inside my mouth. _Inside my mouth! _

What kind of shit is this? I need help!?

Wait a minute?

Why am I not pushing away?

Why am I not…resisting?

Damn it all...

Breaths. The fox has ceased his attack. The gun still hasn't left my sight. It's pointed at my throat.

"They say in these moments is where you get true love."

He brushes his fur back, and he slowly strokes his stomach. What a look of satisfaction upon his face! Is this rape? This is all too confusing.

"You call a make-out, at gunpoint, true love?"

He coughs a little bit.

"We're moving to my apartment now. If you want a good time, you'll follow."

I just nod my head. He puts the gun away. With his fingers he motions towards the streets. It's not like I can do anything. I have to follow every word he says or kill me. Hell, he might still kill me. I have no fucking clue how to handle this!

* * *

After that, altercation, we walked six blocks to his dwelling. Thirty-five floors up, a long elevator wait, and the turn of the doorknob; this is where we continued. My mind raced too much to remember the walk there. I came to when Miles started speaking to me again.

* * *

"I hope you like red wine because I don't have white, and besides, white tastes like flowered shit."

Perfect, white floors, golden brown cabinets, two silver goblets of wine sitting upon a glass table; all this from a one bedroom shithole? A brown bar to matches the décor, small rugs infiltrate everywhere. Some Persian, some Indian, some…look like rip-offs.

"You're going to drink until you smile, got it?"

"You can't make me smile."

"Alcohol will disprove the theory, it always does."

"Whatever…"

We sit down, adjacent, on his leather couch. He smiles for love. Such an endearing look as we sit. Like a dad who couldn't be prouder, a lover who always pined; a true touch of warmth. The guy is just grinning through excitement. I have to things right, so I get the fuck out of here.

Heat still feels transferred, and I've let go of mortality.

"What do you think of me? Huh? Are we everything we wanted?"

My personality jokes.

"Of course! This night has been…. Lovely. I can see a long relationship blossoming from this!"

He just looks on, out the window, through the balcony, into the stars. We're a completion of the universe. Too bad this dimension is fucked up beyond eternity.

"Tell me everything then, love angel."

Times like this make it hard; hard to tell if he's been drinking before we met up. Love angel? This must be a board game. A toy he plays with. A cure for boredom. My mind has decided to push the envelope a little farther; play with his unknown emotions. Sort of like how he was at the Chinese restaurant.

"Like what? Love?"

"The only solidarity left standing."

The glass rises to his lips and he gulps it down. They say you're not supposed to do that with wine, but I guess he's never heard the warnings.

"I've only been loved by people who thought I was cool. People think they know you because they've seen you before. Maybe only once, hell, maybe twice, and they think they know everything you've ever stood to. Why the exposure or the caring? Nobody deserves me! I'm just another token in a gaming machine, another cereal flake from the box; I'm a just a person like everyone else! Why can't people see that?"

The fox carefully puts the goblet back down, a small clink from glass upon glass. The pistol still slowly pointed at my head.

"The world is selective in its wonders. We've all been noticed before. Everyone is famous. It's…just always going to be the question of quantity versus quality. If you're loved by a million meaningless people, or just one person you'd die for; that's famousness. To one or million you're bloody fucking famous."

Miles made sense. Maybe all I needed was affection. Someone to tell me I was great, someone to take a bullet for me. Who cared about anyone else?

"You've got a good point."

"I'm full of them."

"So I've noticed."

He waves the gun around some more, before he plants it back to my head. The cool metal shivers my entire body. He throws his glasses to the ground. Cobalt eyes…but more bloodshot than before, like something irritated them. He smells my body close, I shudder again. A silent whisper enters my ears.

"We need to fuck now, so I suggest you prepare yourself."

Needless to say I already forgot that tonight was about rape, kidnapping, shitty eating and a psycho fox.

We both rise from the couch and start slowly pacing to a room. The firearm presses against my back and I've got no choice but to accept.

It fucking figures though...You know? Nights like this?

* * *

The butt of his gun smacks the back of my head. Gives my ears a ringing sound, a sound I don't necessarily enjoy. My face is down in a pillow, but it's not smothering me. I can hear his shaky breathing too; it accompanies the storm rushing through my head.

But for some reason, I find the need to joke at the situation.

"Hey Miles! Things just aren't going the way you planned are they?"

"I'll make you scream for that."

My humor just died from fear.

I decide to close my eyes for a second. There's a chance I can just blank this out. Let my mind wander from here. A far away place, like where the forests meet the mountains out west. It's real cool out there. The winds are strong, but you feel so alive. Leaves fall from the canopies, the sunlight glistens, occasionally snow will fall; there's no noise, no words to talk to you, only the sounds of the earth. Pure silence.

Then I hear it.

The fox is lubing himself up.

Fuck me to fucking hell!

Actually, the way things are going tonight, it'll probably happen.

* * *

The bed just keeps squeaking. He's not saying anything, his hand is on my back and I'm finally used to this bullshit. Even unusual pain like this can be…adapting as much as I hate to say it. Thirty minutes have passed and he's still not done with me.

When is he going to finish this off? Am I ever going to leave this place? Is he going to kill me? What's really gonna happen?

The thrusting stops.

I spoke too soon.

I barely hear a moan.

He's done.

But he did this to me.

He…I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't even think.

* * *

The light flickers on. I finally feel the urge to lift my head.

"I hope you liked that."

"Fuck you."

"We just did."

"Ugh, whatever."

His footsteps come up beside me. Everything feels ethereal and calm. It's all over right? Miles puts his left hand over his face, and exhales loudly.

The gun pounds back into my head.

"I hope you're ready to fucking die. It's been fun and all, but I don't want you telling anybody about how our night went. But hey, look at it this way, at least there'll be no more people to talk about. And don't worry, I'll make sure no one finds your body…ever."

"You're a monster!"

The pistol pushes farther into me.

"I was born one. I was made this way. And right now…You're just another therapy session for me; a waste of space and time and energy."

I'm finally starting to lose it. I'm crying. I can't stop crying now. What is wrong with me?

"Don't do this Miles."

"It's too late for pleas."

"Please! Don't kill me! I want to live! I'll have sex with you! I'll love you forever!"

"You're so fucking pathetic…"

"Don't do it…"

"Sorry, you've already served your purpose."

My life begins to flashback as I hear the gun click. I see all the people blurring by and I can't do anything.

When you're about to die you realize all the times you wasted away, achieving nothing.

I don't want my life to be like this! To end like this!

Miles' finger pulls the trigger back.

Click………………………………………

………………clickclickclicklclick clickclickclicklclick

The gun was empty the whole fucking time. Son of a bitch…..fucking son of a bitch.

Fuck!

Suddenly his hand eases up; he tosses the gun to the floor.

"Did I do a good job?"

The fox just smiles at me.

I wipe my tears away.

And I return the favor.

"You were wonderful Tails."

He sighs really hard, like a huge monkey just jumped off his back.

"Thanks! I tried really hard! I wanted to be as crazy as I could be to please you! I wanted to do everything like you wanted!"

"You did. I'm surprised you did so well actually. I think the philosophical musings were a little much, but then again, you were very unpredictable. Great pick on the restaurant and on hiding the gun too. Nobody saw anything."

"Yeah the restaurant was way downtown, and hiding the gun was hard, but I managed...but you did a good job too! I mean, you really looked frightened! Like scared shitless! Really you did!"

"Thanks Tails…."

A couple of minutes pass as we just sit there, our eyes staring off around the room before coming back to each other.

"We're switching rolls next time right?"

"Yeah, we'll switch it up."

"Same time as today, next week?"

"Of course, Tails."

"Awesome. I always like being the victim instead of the aggressor."

"You've been a victim your whole life, it makes sense."

"It does, it really does."

I scratch the back of my head a little bit. No blood, a small bruise will be there though. But it's nothing I haven't handled before.

"Well Tails I gotta get going…I'll see you next week!"

I stand up and make an exit for the door, but he cuts me off before I get there.

"Hey."

He looks almost a little upset. I hope nothing's wrong.

"Yeah Tails?"

The fox hugs me, like he's never done before, harder than when I saved him from bullies, or Robotnik, or anything else in his life.

"I love you Sonic."

I merely chuckle and kiss him on the cheek.

"You too Tails. You too."

Without another word, I softly depart the room.

And I make sure I don't look back as I leave the apartment.

Besides why would I?

I just got raped.

_-Maverick87-2008_

**Author's Note: Yeah this was going to be Tails/Rouge but I decided to twist it up. Yeah I suck and I am a sick bastard. Thanks for telling me that in advance. **


End file.
